


Little Better than the Devil

by ani_bester



Category: Marvel 616, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Horror, M/M, Other, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:49:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ani_bester/pseuds/ani_bester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony is a Vampire. This is not happy, sparkly, or cuddly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Better than the Devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pandanoai](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=pandanoai).



> This was done for pandanoai, who wanted Vampire!Tony. For this, I wanted to give more of a nod to the original Bram Stoker Vampire concept, which scares the bejeesus outta me. Which makes it not happy. The art came about because as I was working the story out in my head, I was sketching at Denny's and I figured what the hey, I'll spruce up the sketches tonight and include them.

Tony slid his fingers down Steve's arm, tracing the well defined muscles of the man's bicep. Steve stood completely still, held by Tony's gaze. 

"I told you, Steve," Tony murmured, reaching up to push back the cowl. "I told you if you came after me, you'd better be prepared to kill me." Steve didn't even twitch as Tony pulled at the cowl, baring the thick neck. He inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of the blood that flowed just beneath his fingers. He pressed against the carotid artery, feeling the steady beat. Tony licked his lips but forced himself to think a moment. 

 

He knew Steve would begin to fight off the trance as soon as he broke eye contact. In this case, Tony's inhuman strength only made him the physical equal of the super human in front of him. That meant that Tony would have to be able to overpower Steve once he woke up, at least long enough for the blood loss to weaken the human. 

Luckily Steve had taught him plenty of holds that would keep the larger man in place long enough for Tony to eat his fill. He smiled up at Steve. 

"Would you kneel for me?" he asked. 

Obediently, Steve fell to his knees with a resounding thud. If he were going to be alive the next day, Tony mused, he'd probably have bruises. Tony leaned over and rested his hand against Steve's cheek.

"For you, Steven, I'll try to make this hurt as little as possible. I loved you."

Then, Steve moved. It wasn’t much, just a slight change of his lips. He smiled. Rather than a blank, corpse-like expression, Steve appeared as though he were caught up in a pleasant dream. He looked open, trusting. He looked loving. 

Tony choked and took a step back. "God," he whimpered. 

He hungered so deeply it was painful. "No," he muttered, taking a shaky step toward his victim. He rested his hand on Steve's unmoving shoulder, leaning forward, and then--

With a shout, Tony knocked Steve away. Then entranced man flew across the room, hitting the wall hard enough to crack the plaster.

Steve woke up immediately. Tony heard him fall into a ready stance; he heard the panicked man call his name. He knew he should leave, but damn it, he was so hungry and Steve was so naïve, so easy. Tony pressed himself back against the far wall and covered his eyes with his hands.

"Steve," he cried hoarsely. "Steve, run."

He could hear Steve moving toward him with slow cautious steps. 

"Damn it, run!" Tony's fist hit the wall and plaster exploded around him. 

"I'm not leaving without you, Tony."

Even with Steve still feet away, Tony could hear Steve's heart beat, smell the metallic scent of the fresh blood that pounded within the weak flesh. Steve continued to move closer. Tony took three steps forward before he found the will to stop himself.

"You don't understand." Tony fought to say the words. "Steve you see my body looking . . . looking mostly the same, but . . . you don't know how hard this is." Tony's body began to shake. "There's so little, Steve, so little of me is holding on." The hand Tony held over his face began to tremble and draw away. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Steve moved closer still and somehow Tony knew he'd put his shield between them. 

"You're my friend. I can help you."

Tony wanted to laugh. He wanted to spread his arms wide and tell Steve that of course he could help him. All Steve had to do was come to him, give himself to him, let him drink his fill, drink until Steve was ash white and still. Or better yet, let him drink three times and Steve could be his, his to command, his to posses mind, body, and soul. He clenched his fist against the terrible hunger within him, digging his sharp nails deep into his palm. 

"If you're my friend, Steve," he whispered gently, "then kill me. If you want to help me, let me rest. Kill this thing using my body. Do you understand, Steve, there's almost nothing of me left. In another day there will be nothing. Don't let me become this. "

Steve moved forward one step then faltered. For a moment the small bit of Tony that remained hoped that Steve understood. But no blow came. 

"Let me take you back. Reed or Hank can—" Steve reached out and touched Tony's shoulder.

Tony reacted instinctively, but for the last time it was with the instincts of an Avenger, not a monster. He grabbed Steve's wrist, crushing the bone beneath. With a primal roar he threw the man back across the room and before Steve even landed, Tony had propelled himself out a window.

He landed on the pavement three feet below and just kept running until he'd put over 10 miles between him and the warehouse Steve had found him in. 

 

Slowing to a stop Tony ducked into a dark alley and rested his hand against the brick wall. He didn't feel tired, hell he hardly felt like he'd run at all, but he did feel nauseous and his bones seemed to ache. He wished it was because of what he'd considered doing to his long time friend, but the reality was Tony needed to feed. He tried to regret wanting to make a meal of Steve, but he couldn't. The only regret he found was that he had left the warehouse unfulfilled. 

He knew Steve would try again though. The man was an idiot when it came to heroically saving friends. And Tony would kill him.

Or change him. 

With the last bit of his humanity that remained, Tony picked his next prey in the hopes of showing Steve exactly what he'd become. 

Showing Steve there was only two choices. Let Tony become a monster or kill him.

***

Steve resisted the urge to try and scratch beneath the cast that covered his wrist. Tony had broken it when he'd grabbed him and thrown him across the room. _And through a wall_ , he recalled as his shoulder protested painfully when he reached up to slide the book on Vampires back into its place on the shelf. 

_There must be something_ , he thought to himself. _And I'll find it_. He'd already scheduled a meeting with the X-Men. Rumor had it that Storm had once been changed into a Vampire. Steve could only hope that Scott Summers, or anyone really, had learned something from that experience that would now help him save Tony. 

Having tucked the useless book away, Steve walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and rested against it, looking out over the sunlit skyline. He wondered where his friend might have sought refuge. An abandoned building? A dank sewer? If he could figure that out, he could catch Tony when he was asleep and less likely to toss him through a wall.

 _Or kill me_ , Steve thought, forcing himself to honestly admit how close he'd come to being Tony's victim.

A noise from behind him broke Steve's morbid thoughts and he turned to see Peter standing in the doorway. The younger man looked visibly ill, and immediately Steve was ready for anything. 

"What? What's happened?" he asked, hoisting his shield onto his back with the ease of long practice.

"You . . ." Peter looked at the ground. "You need to come see this, it's--" His voice broke and he barely got the last words out. "--pretty bad."

Steve raced down the stairs, leaving Peter to catch up as best he could. Arriving in the lobby of the building, he saw his fellow Avengers standing around the sidewalk just out front of Stark Towers. He raced through the automatic doors. 

"Steve," Jessica Drew whispered, her eyes filled with grief. Luke and his wife looked away from Steve as he drew closer, but Wolverine's eyes never left him, waiting to see his reaction to whatever had drawn everyone’s attention. For a moment, Steve hesitated. Glancing behind him, he saw Peter had stayed inside. He stood beside MJ, whose arms were wrapped around Pepper as the she cried against MJ's shoulders. 

Steve looked over to where Spiderwoman and Sentry were trying to restrain a quickly-growing crowd. Just in front of them, sprawled on the sidewalk, was the body of a little girl. Steve stepped closer and peered down at her bloodless face. She'd been drained, but not through two neat pinprick holes like the fairy tales led you to expect. Instead, nearly the entirety of her lower left neck had been ripped away. Steve could see the exposed ends of her jugular, the vicious wound all the more eerie for the total lack of blood.

Something fluttered on her jacket, catching his eye. Bending down closer, Steve saw a note pinned to the festive red and green blazer. He picked it up and stared at it. For a long moment his mind couldn’t make sense of the words written in Tony's firm handwriting. 

When he did understand, he wished he hadn't. 

There, amongst finger prints marked in blood, was a single sentence. 

_"Steve, if you want to help me, kill me."_

The world seemed to stop and it took him several seconds to realize Spiderwoman was speaking to him. 

"I said, 'what are we going to do?'" she repeated, beginning to sound irritated. 

Steve looked from her to Luke to Logan. Then he glanced back inside where Pepper – God, poor Pepper— was still crying against MJ. Peter had Pepper's cell phone and was calling someone, maybe Rhodey. 

Steve felt his own eyes begin to burn and closed them for a moment. He prayed that when he opened them he'd still be inside looking out the window, or better yet, at dinner with Tony before this whole damn mess started.

 

But he opened them to cruel reality. 

"Well?" Jessica asked.

"We help Tony," Steve answered softly.


End file.
